


Every New Beginning Comes from Some Other Beginning's End

by heeroluva



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:28:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: Taararo has never been more in love with Eka than this very moment.





	Every New Beginning Comes from Some Other Beginning's End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Welsper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/gifts).

Taararo has never been more in love with Eka than this very moment. Her messy curls have long since been shorn short, while her grey eyes gleam with excitement as she stands protectively over his prone form, blood dripping down her blade as she offers him her hand.

Taking her hand without hesitation, Taararo watches the way her muscles bunch as she pulls him to his feet with nary a struggle despite the fact that he’s more than a head taller and outweighs her by nearly double. He barely recognizes the girl who hadn’t spoken for a week after he’d cut a bloody path out of the burning palace nearly two years ago.

His father, the king’s oldest friend and head general, had plotted against the royal family. Taararo had walked into his worst nightmare: the royal family and their guards dead by his father’s hand, his father standing over Eka about to deliver the final blow. He doesn’t remember moving, the clash of steel against steel reverberating through his entire body as he parries the swing.

For as long as Taararo can remember, he’d worshipped his father. He’d taught Taararo everything he knows, had taught him what it meant to protect, had instilled loyalty into him. For his father to do such a thing was beyond comprehension.

He’d stood between his father and Eka, and his father had appeared as a stranger before him, his face twisted by hate and anger.

“Step aside,” his father had ordered, but Taararo had stood his ground.

“Never.”

His father had sneered as he’d charged forward. “Then you shall die as well.”

Despite his father’s advanced age, Taararo knew he was no match for him. Throwing Eka over his shoulder, he’d run, ignoring his father’s angered shouts.

It wasn’t until weeks later, night after night of holding her crying form that Taararo bows down low before Eka. “What my father did, there can be no forgiveness. But my ignorance of his plans is inexcusable. My life is yours to do with as you please.”

Eyes clenched shut, the feel of Eka’s hand on his head is a shock.

“Please rise.”

She tugs at him, and he slowly straightens, unable to believe the warmth in her eyes. “You’re correct. There is no forgiveness for your father, but you are not to blame for his actions.” Her hand moves to cup his cheek. “If not for you, I’d be dead as well. If there is to be a debt between us, it is I who owe you.”

Taararo shakes his head in denial. “No, Princess. I’d be a bad bodyguard if I didn’t do my job.”

The smile Eka gives him is breathtaking. “Then if there is to be no debt between us, I ask that you continue to stay by my side as a friend.”

Taararo bows his head. “If that is your desire, then it will be done.”

In the following months they find many allies and Eka blossoms and grows in a way that the gilded walls of her home would have never allowed. The swordplay is the biggest shock though; when Taararo refuses to train her, she takes to practicing alone at night, showing her stubbornness and strength of her resolve to learn.

When Taararo confront Eka about the dangers of doing it alone, of picking up bad habits, she says, “I refuse to be a burden. I can’t always rely on you to protect me. What right do I have to the throne if I can’t protect my people?” She burns with a passion like he’s never seen from her before. He can’t be the one to extinguish that flame and vows then and there that he will see her returned to the throne.

Taararo flames her passion, helps it grow, and Eka eagerly absorbs everything he teaches her like a sponge, growing stronger each day.

The first battle is a lesson to them both, the man Eka spares nearly killing Taararo. As he stands over Taararo, prepared to make the killing blow, Eka’s sword pierces through the man’s chest, drawing a startled gurgle from him before he collapses dead. He hates himself then as he watches another part of her innocence die as steel grows in its place as she stares in horror at quickly spreading blood stain darkening Taararo’s clothes.

Eka shouts as Taararo sways suddenly, his adrenaline fading as their enemies lay dead. Her arm curl around him, but he takes them both to the ground as he passes out.

It’s far from the first time he’s been injured and will be far from the last, but it’s one of the most memorable, waking in a strange house, Eka curled up at his side, not quite touching except his hand which is clenched to her chest as though she’s afraid to hurt him with more. Her eyes are puffy, having clearly been crying, and he shifts, wanting to reach for her when his injuries suddenly make themselves known, and he groans in pain.

Eka startles awake, sitting up abruptly. Upon seeing him awake, she gives him a bright smile that wobbles before she begins to sob, hiding her face in her hands. “I’m so sorry. You were hurt because of me. I’m so stupid. I never wanted to hurt anyone, but he was going to kill you.”

Taararo’s injuries scream as he reaches out and pulls her against his chest, but he ignores them. “Thank you, Eka.”

It’s not long before she cries herself out, and he wonders how long it’s been since she’s slept, how long he’s been here, but his own exhaustion takes him before he gets any answers.

Back in the present, Eka stands by his side, a warrior goddess just like the stories of old, her armor and face streaked with blood as his father on his knees before them, clearly awed by her presence as he shakes in fear. 

“Please spare me. I can offer you—” His head rolls to the side, bouncing down the steps before coming to a rest, and the sight of it brings none of the sorrow that it would have a few short years ago.

Crouching down, Taararo picks up the head and raises it high, a hush slowly settling over the battlefield. “Once we were a people divided, lied to by both sides. Now we stand united under the Queen Eka.”

A cheer goes up as shouts of “Queen Eka! Queen Eka!” rise up around them.

Taararo moves to step back to give Eka the spotlight that she deserves, but she catches his hand and pulls him to her side where he remains the rest of the evening.

That night he’s not sure why he’s surprised when he finds her in his bed, having slept together most nights during their travels, often for the sake of practicality, be it for money or safety or warmth.

“What your giant, fancy bed isn’t good enough for you, Eka?”

Eka doesn’t quite meet his eyes as she pulls the blanket up to her chin and says, “It was too empty and cold.”

“You should return to your room.”

Eka raises her eyes and simply says, “No.”

“Eka—”

“No!” she repeats, rising to her feet, the blanket falling away revealing that she’s naked beneath.

Taararo knows he should look away, but he can’t, eyes sliding over the swell of her breasts, her nipples hard, down her muscular stomach to the curve of her hips, and the patch of curls that top her thighs. He swallows thickly as he meets her eyes.

“You don’t get it both ways. I am no longer a child, haven’t been in some time. I’ve waited, hoping, but you never made a move. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you at my side. And I can’t imagine a life without you there. I want you to remain at my side not as a bodyguard, but as my consort.”

Taararo clenches his fists never having dreamed of this. He takes a step forward, and she closes the remaining distance between them completely, pressing her bare body against his clothed form. His fingers trembling as he reaches out, cupping her cheek as he rests his other on the curve of her hip. Her face is so earnest, so close. “I’m not worthy.”

Eka snorts. “Why don’t you let me decide that?”

“As you wish.” Taararo drops his head as Eka stands on tiptoes, their lips meeting. The word falls away as they lose themselves in each other.


End file.
